What Am I Supposed To Do?
by honeyandmustard
Summary: Companion piece to S2 - Final Episodes. How I think Dean is feeling just after what happens to Sam... Sorry about bad reveiw, story is better!


**Disclaimer: **Ok So I don't own Supernatural, anything Supernatural related or Jared and Jensen, But i wish I did :P

What Am I Supposed To Do?

I looked at Bobby confused. Why had he brought us to the most haunted place in America which was clearly deserted. I continued to walk, hearing only our footsteps and the deep breathing that was coming from either me or Bobby, I wasn't sure who.

As we advanced into the village, I saw a body laying on the ground and someone standing over it. Was it Sam? Was I lucky enough to have found my brother alive, had my wish come true? It toyed in my head until I finally had the courage to speak aloud and I called into the night, 'SAM'. We continued to walk nearer as the figure turned, holding an obviously damaged arm, 'Dean' it called back. It was Sam, I knew that voice better then anyone else's, probably better then my own.

I wanted to run to him, to embrace him and tell him I was sorry. Sorry for not coming sooner, sorry for not being there for him this whole time. I wanted to question him about how he had got here and why? However, something else caught my eye. The body that had previously been lying on the floor was moving and was running at Sam. I called to him 'Sam, Watch Out' but it was too late and this new body stuck a knife into his back. I couldn't even stare in horror; I had to get to my brother. Running, and still along side Bobby, I called, 'NOOOO'.

I watched as Sam fell helplessly to his knees. Nothing else mattered right now except for my urgency to get to my brother. As I drew nearer, I fell to the ground myself, placing my gun down on the floor and grabbing both the jacket and shirt he was wearing, if only to hold him upright. What happened to Bobby, didn't bother me right now, all that bothered me was the man in front of me, the man who was grunting in pain, the man who had been there the majority of my life. All that mattered was my brother.

I repeated his name a few times, whilst trying to keep him upright. This could not be happening, not now, not after everything we have been through. I reached around to hold him tighter and to see what damage had been done. When I felt my hand touch a liquid spilling out of his clothes, I knew he was in trouble. But Sam wouldn't die, he couldn't die? I withdrew my hand and looked down at it, a red pool of blood gathered there.

I pulled Sam around to face me, looking him in the eyes. He probably couldn't see me and deep down, I knew he was in trouble, but I couldn't bring my self to say it. Instead, I tried to reassure both him and me. I held his face and said softly 'Oh, hey look, it's not even that bad... It's not even that bad, alright? Sammy, Sam! Hey, listen to me, we are going to patch you up okay... You'll be as good as new. Huh? I'm going to take care of you, I'm going to take care of you! I gotcha. It's my job, right, watch after my pain-in-the-ass little brother... Sam... Sam... Sam! Sammy!'. But in that moment, I don't understand what it was but I knew he was gone.

'No. No-no-no-no-no-no. Oh, God. Oh, God... Sam!' I looked into his face one last time to check if he really was gone. It was apparent from him not being responsive and his eyes not seeing that he was but I couldn't bring myself to believe it. I grabbed hold of him and pulled him into me, if he was going to die, it had to be in my arms, not on his own. Although I know it was pointless as no one could hear me and I knew Sam couldn't but still I called his name one last time, 'Sam'. I continued to hold him, allowing myself to give into the tears which were now running smoothly down my cheek.

For the next few days, I stood just watching Sammy's lifeless body. I couldn't actually comprehend that he had died, not my brave, strong little brother. I stood and thought about the good times we had. How we played pranks on each other whenever we could how he had to deal with my need to sing my old classics. I thought about the occasional arguments we would have and how they normally ended up in Sam doing something and getting one of us nearly killed. But this time was different. We hadn't actually argued this time, he was just taken. And now he was actually dead.

Bobby would frequently pop in and out. Probably checking up on me and making sure I haven't down anything stupid. Like that would help. If I did, it would only annoy more people and it would mean I hadn't only let down Sam, it would mean I had let my dad down as well. He had asked if we should bury the body and I told him straight that I wasn't ready.

I continued to stare at my brother's fragile body. I had to say something. Anything in the hope that somehow he would here it 'You know when we were little, you couldn't have been more than five, you started asking me questions. Like, how come we didn't have a mom? Why we always have to move around? Where'd dad go? When he'd take off for days at a time. I remember I begged you to quit asking, Sammy, you don't want to know. I just wanted you to be a kid, just a little while longer. I was trying to protect you, keep you safe. Dad didn't even have to tell me, it was just always my responsibility. It was like I had one job. I had one job and I screwed it up. I blew it and for that I am sorry.' Tears fell from my eyes and I made a slow effort to wipe them away. Each sentence that left my lips brought back a memory. Something unique to me and Sam, something that would make me cry harder.

The thoughts wouldn't stop coming and neither would what I wanted to say. I remained sitting and staring, speaking as if it were a flow of a river, 'I guess that's what I do, I let down the people I love. I let dad down. And now, I guess I'm supposed to let you down, too. How can I? How am I supposed to live with that? What am I supposed to do, Sammy?' I paused and looked down at him again, not sure what to say next. I decide it is easy to repeat a previous sentence and wiping away the tears I say 'What am I supposed to do?' I can't hold it in anymore and I slowly raise to my feet, kicking the bed a few seconds after standing and yelling at the body 'What am I supposed to do?'.

**So....What you think.... These are my first so..... Go on... Leave me a reveiw, you know you want to :P**


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